


Fire

by XP1



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Dana Scully - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fire, Fluff, Fox Mulder - Freeform, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, MSR, RST, UST, injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XP1/pseuds/XP1
Summary: 1) ” ‘Mulder…’ she trembled as she grasped at his arms. ‘Help.’ “2) “I mean... not to brag, but it’s pretty big.” He said at her tight expression of pain. “Just huge.” He continued...3) She exhaled heavily and unfurled a mischeivious grin. Her eyes glimmered with a dare as she asked him for “Help.”—-Nothing to do with the episode Fire.Now with 4000% fewer typos.





	1. Collapse

**Author's Note:**

> 6th or so year of their partnership. Nothing to do with the episode Fire.

“I’m not leaving you!” He bellowed, coughing on the tail end.

“I’m not leaving her!” She bellowed back, not taking her eyes off her patient.

“Dammit, Scully! Don’t-“

The autistic child in his arms wailed and struggled mightily. Mulder shushed him with as much soothing tone as he could muster. Heat rose to find them on the upper floors of the building.

“Get him outta here Mulder.” She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of a gloved hand. The room began to fill with a light haze, the atmosphere thickening as the flames from the lower levels licked and grew.

“Scully-!”

“Blue team is 2 minutes behind us, we’ll be fine!”

The woman’s ragged gasp threatened to negate that statement.

Mulder held the child strongly and was forced to decide. He made his way with the screeching boy to the back window, contemplating the difficult task of carrying him down the rickety fire escape.

He turned to her. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replied, no hesitation. She nodded at the window. “Go.”

“2 minutes Scully.” His eyes pleaded for her to flee after that. She set her jaw and looked back at the bleeding woman in her care.

“Go.” She said.

And so he went.

—-

He was fiercely protective of the boy despite the challenges presented. The boy screamed and wouldn’t let anyone but Mulder touch him.

“Get in, we’ll take you both.” The paramedic yelled over the din.

Mulder looked back at the building, great thick funnels of smoke tainting the air, turning the sky dark. He saw Blue team begin to descend the same exit he had, but didn’t see her.

He got in the ambulance, and tried to have faith. He tried to reason that the damage looked worse than it was. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe it hadn’t affected the actual structure of the-

As the child flailed in his arms, he saw the building collapse from three blocks away.

—-

He left the child in good hands, and was saddened to realize that the kid barely even noticed that he had come or gone.

He went to find her. He needed to find her.

He passed agents and nurses and doctors and patients as he pushed towards the center of the activity, the entrance to the ambulance bay.

‘Has anyone seen Agent Scully, short woman, redhead?’ or ‘Hey,’ he repeated, ‘have you seen a redhead woman, FBI agent, anywhere?’ He swam through the crowds asking anyone, everyone, he came across, if they’d seen a short redhead woman, an FBI Agent.

No one had.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and tried to stay calm. He was about to stand on a chair and yell her name at the top of his lungs when she appeared at the entrance to the ambulance bay.

The bone wagon chariot of the ambulance she rode regurgitated her and the child’s mother from its wide, sturdy doors. She stood tall and above the people on the ground.

Her personal phalanx was was attentive and focused, the gears of rescue in motion, the boy’s mother and Scully, by proxy, as focal point. She ordered things he couldn’t hear but knew by their tone, and as the patient was lowered Scully was lowered as well. Her thickly gloved hand never moved from its place, halfway up the patient’s torso, spatters of blood tinting the blue as far up as her wrist.

The boy’s mother was critical but here and alive and he noticed the face mask still attached at the mouth. Some had to breathe for her at some point, and he frowned as he realized that Scully was panting, so it was probably her. She was hiding the stress of breathing for two from everyone well, but not well enough from him.

She commanded the scene and kept her hand steady, keeping pace with the gurney, gesticulating and and pointing, making way with her voice and her presence. The group passed by him, and he caught only the faint bass syllables of the orders she gave, but it set his heart soaring and his fevered mind at ease.

God he was in love.

He followed as closely as he could without being a bother, watching as they rolled the patient into a bay. He hovered at the doorway to fend off interlopers, and to make sure that he’d catch her before she had a chance to escape.

She fluttered and ordered and double checked everything through the storm of the chaos, her cool presence the calm in it’s eye. She noticed him suddenly as she scanned her surroundings, and with recognition in her eyes, she pointed a hard finger at him. 

“Stay close.” She commanded, eyes and tone hard. He nodded as she moved on, no longer on her radar. She was in task mode andd focused and he knew not to fuck around.

The attending physicians set up the handoff, sliding something padded and absorbent close to her hand. He was half sick to realize that oh holy shit, one small finger was stuck inside the patient and ohhh Jesus Christ, she seemed totally unaffected by this. He wanted to cry out his praise, his awe and his horror, that this woman, his partner, was holding back death with no more than her touch. Wasn’t this amazing, he wanted to shout. Look upon this and marvel, come and be changed!

His soul wrenching sermon cut itself short, as he watched her unplug her pinky to be replaced by...well...something else. He had to look away, squeamish, to take deep calming breaths and he looked up again only when he heard the slip-snap removal of her gloves.

She removed them properly without even a glance, her eyes judging and calculating the mess that was left. The machine of life no longer had need of her now, as it replaced her, not unkindly, with tubing and gauze. She nodded once, at who he wasn’t sure, and focused instead on inspecting her hands. She kept her nails long but blunt just for this, in case something ever happened and she couldn’t risk puncturing a glove. Her hands were immaculate and gorgeous and clean of all gore but she frowned at invisible splotches and scrubbed her hands in the sink for good measure. He watched her scrub Out Out the Damn Spots with a surgeon’s patterned care, noting how she stiffened as she leaned forward to dry them. She closed her eyes and took a breath before tugging at the paper towels. She turned one last time to the scene she was leaving, flexing her fingers, saying goodbye.

Pain crossed her face briefly, what he could see of it, as the veil of her hair hid her from his eyes as she lowered her head. 

He stepped toward her. “Scully?”

She shook her head as much as she could, stiff, aching. She set focused eyes on him, and moved towards him with purpose.

“Come.” She commanded, striding past him into the hall, catching and pulling him with her by his sleeve in her wake.

He followed her as she slipped, practiced, in her element, around clusters of agents and doctors and nurses, down to the end of a long corridor, far from prying eyes.

She started strong but slowed the further away they got, bringing one arm around her midsection and bowing her head wit’s a cough.

He jogged to catch up, bumping elbows and shoulders and earning dirty looks and unbelieving stares along the way. At the end of the hallway it was quiet and clear, and she stumbled and pressed her shoulder to the wall to keep her balance.

She peeked into rooms as she passed, and found one to her satisfaction, shuffling into it, groaning and reaching reaching for him again.

He was concerned and confused and elated and angry. “Scully…” he started, not sure where to begin. “What-“

She shut the door behind them and fell against him, exhausted and injured and fighting to stay conscious.

“Mulder…” she trembled as she grasped at his shoulders. “Help.”

He brought his arms around her quickly when he realized her distress, the strength of them more structural than loving as she weakened against him.

“Scully, God…” He called out, concerned, as she shook in his arms. She tried to say something but couldn’t, her lungs on fire, exhausted by the effort of breathing for two for so long.

The stress and the adrenaline that had lent her their strength dissolved from her now, leaving her aching and shakey. He felt her body begin to give in to gravity, and he carefully, if awkwardly, half carried her to the ground.

She hissed as her back arched on the cold tile and she coughed deep and phlegmatic, rolling onto her side.

 “Up.” She commanded as she struggled to sit. ‘Sit the patient up, Mulder,’ she’d once taught him as they both worked together to keep a victim alive. ‘Airway straight, airway clear’ she’d instructed, showing him how.

He remembered the lesson and sat with his chest to her back, pulling her to him between his legs, holding her tight. He dragged them both a foot or so over to the wall so he could lean into it as she leaned into him. She rolled her head on his shoulder and moaned as she tipped it back, parting her lips in a grimace as she struggled for breath. He put a hand on her forehead to help keep her in place and the skin under his own was sweaty and hot. 

 “You need oxygen.” He whispered, but she shook her head slowly: no. 

“Not ‘no’, Scully, you-“ He started, half snapping, but she groaned and tried to pull away from him, fully to stand up and walk away.

He relented. “Okay, alright, alright, Jesus, come on now...” he shook his head in frustration as she settled back down. “God you’re a pain in the ass sometimes.”

She smiled softly and he nuzzled his nose into her hair. She sank deeply into him heavy, listless. The arm she kept curled around her stomach dropped slightly, and he moved to replace it with one of his own.

He kept a light pressure that made her grunt out a breath, but when he tried to let up she brought a trembling weak hand to his forearm, pushing it slightly, wanting more force.

He held her midsection tighter and she hissed at the move, but her breathing started regulating and she seemed to relax. 

“Hurts?” He asked, and she made a noise that meant ‘yes’.

He thought about how to phrase things so she could answer with grunts. “Are you concerned about it?” He asked, and she shook her head slightly: no.

He moved his lips to her cheek right by her ear, pressed them softly against her and was greatly concerned.

“Should you be?” He spoke, lips grazing her skin. She took a moment but said nothing, and as a response her lashes grew dark with unshed tears. She turned her face into his neck and tried to hide herself there.

“Please...” She half sobbed, the last syllable an exhale. He soothed her and hummed and told her it was alright. He brought his lips to rest to the top of her head and the slow anxious tears he wept were absorbed by her hair. 

She nodded, grateful, curling up slightly, one knee coming up and trying to press it against her chest. He brought his other arm up and palmed just over the shelf of her breasts, feeling bone and ragged breathing as he pressed away pain. Another thing she’d taught him, that one time he’d gone tumbling out of a tree.

Her breathing was ragged but as she rested she improved. He was angry and scared but for now he tried to be grateful, and tried not to be overwhelmed.

“M’sorry.” She said, sniffling once, eyes welling up. He snuffled her damp hair, smelling faint floral undertones under the  bitter, acrid smoke. “Were you inside when it fell?” He asked, knowing already.

She pressed her face back under his jaw. “Close.” She gasped, swallowing. “Drywal.” She explained. “Clipped hard.” She shuddered, and he held her tighter at the thought.

“You shouldn’t have been there.” He rumbled, low, getting mad. His disapproval made her wither, but she spoke with resolve.

“Mother...” she explained, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Kid...needs his mother...wouldn’t make it if…” she tried to continue but had exhausted herself, and he shushed her and held her tightly as he spoke.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He admitted and she accepted it with grace. The kid barely understood the world around him, he could only imagine what his life would have been like if he’d lost his one remaining parent as well as his home. He sighed his confession into her hair. “I’d have done the same thing.”

She nodded slowly, spoke wistfully. “Love.” She breathed, pressing her lips to the underside of his jaw, lingering, once, before falling semi conscious against him, like the word held all the answers to all questions anyone could ask.

He nodded and brought his lips to her brow. “Love.” He agreed, because she was right. She smiled blissfully before going slack and passing out, dozing with exhaustion.

He shuddered as he wept, and bit wetly at the shoulder of her jacket to stifle his sobs.


	2. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean... not to brag, but it’s pretty big.” He said at her tight expression of pain. “Just huge.” He continued....

She groaned and splayed out on the floor of her apartment.

  
He closed the door behind him.

  
“Hnnng.” She said, stomach to the ground, bending one leg, turning her head and closing her eyes. She rubbed her cheek against the faux hardwood floor.

  
“Rough day at the office?” He deadpanned.

  
“Unf.”

  
“Mmkay.”

  
He padded into the kitchen and she could hear him washing his hands. She smelled pinesol and shoes.

  
He stepped over her on his way back to get to her bedroom. She heard rummaging, closet drawers opening and closing, a quick exuberant “Aha!” and the sound of a duffle bag being dragged out, plopped down on her dresser.

  
It was nice here, on the floor. She commended herself on her taste in apartments.

  
His sock clad feet appeared before her as she opened one eye. He crouched down, and pulled one of her hands close to her face, touching her fingers gently to extend them out of a semi formed fist. She closed her eyes and tried to entwine his fingers with hers but he was insistent and she made a disappointed sound. He patted her gently, leaving two round chalky pills in the palm of her hand.

  
She frowned. “Ugh.”

  
“Don’t give me ugh.” He chided.

  
She eyed the pills suspiciously, brought them closer to her face trying to read the imprinted information.

  
“Tylenol with codeine.” He explained. “You’ve got a lot of stuff in your bag of tricks but you gave me this last time I got the shit kicked out of me.” She grunted appreciation. “I cut the dose you gave me in half.” He said. “Hold on I’ll get you a glass-“

  
She dry swallowed both pills in one go, making a face and keeping her tongue out slightly at the aftertaste.

  
“-of water. Well alright then.”

  
She grunted and rolled onto her back, bringing her arm across her eyes.

  
“You all set down there?” He asked.

  
She inhaled and exhaled deeply over the span of several seconds.

  
“Need a minute.” She said.

  
“Okay.” She heard him crack his knuckles, neck, back. “Holler if you need me.” He said.

  
She felt and heard receding footsteps as he thumped his way to her bathroom. The shower turned on and the door closed.

  
She flexed muscle groups and urf-ed and hhrrgh-ed her way through her body, testing, considering, diagnosing, compiling.

  
She came to the lamentable conclusion that she would live, but probably not wish to for at least several days.

  
“Mph” she muttered to herself as the shower squeaked off. She heard the buckle of his belt clink as he picked it up.

  
She inhaled, preparing. “Mulder.” She half yelled, no panic in her voice. She rolled onto one side in the fetal position before pushing herself up to something resembling sitting as he poked his head out the door.

  
“Yeah? Y’okay?”

  
She scooted over to the arm of her couch, resting her back against it, exhaling with effort.

  
She turned her head towards him and blinked slowly. Water dropped from his head onto the floor.

  
She tipped her head slightly to indicate her bedroom. “Top dresser.” She said. “Left.”

  
He nodded slowly and shut the door gently. She closed her eyes for his modesty and also because she thought it might make the room stop spinning.  
His heavy footfalls vibrated even as he walked further away from her. She sighed and was grateful she had no downstairs neighbour.

  
A drawer opened. Closed. She tried to pull one arm from her jacket, mostly failing.

  
Another drawer opened. “Right.” He informed her from the other room.

  
“Yep.” She groaned out. “S‘what I said...”. She paused to rest after the arduous task of getting one arm free of the heavy garment.

  
He came out dressed in a grey tshirt and flannel patterned pyjama bottoms. He came to kneel by her and touched her arm softly so she would open her eyes. He smelled of new clothes and she was pleased to see him smiling.

  
“Thanks.” He told her, and meant it. “Didn’t want to have to put on the sweaty stuff again.” He frowned and paled slightly. “Smells like fire.”

  
She nodded and indicated him with her head.

  
“Fit okay?” She asked.

  
“A little big at the waist.” He said, answering honestly. She pulled half a smile onto her face and realization dawned slowly across his.

 

He pantomimed embarrassment and backtracked with excess. “I mean no, no gosh, no, it’s way, waaaay too tight! Golly! Scully, how little you think of me!”

She chuckled and patted him once on the shoulder as in...yeah okay.

  
He grinned with mirth as he flustered about with his hands, bringing one to the collar of her jacket and helping her out of it. His other hand twirled little explanatory circles in the air.

  
“Well, not -little- little!...” he began, and she smiled broadly and rolled her eyes, trying to pull her arm out of her jacket. She grimaced and his other hand came immediately to tug the sleeve away for her.

  
“I mean... not to brag, but it’s pretty big.” He said at her tight expression of pain. “Just huge.” He continued. “Gargantuan. Mammoth.” She fought the smile creeping across her face.

  
“Gotta shop at a special store-“ he said, both of them breaking and laughing on the last syllable. She pursed her lips, nodded, mock impressed on the tail end of their mirth.

  
“Izzat right.” She said, placing her hands on his shoulders and shifting her legs slowly to get up.

  
“Easy. Easy.” He helped pull her to stand, slinging her arm around his shoulder and snaking his own around her waist. She took a moment to breathe through aching and stiffness, then made towards the hallway, bolstered by friendship.

  
“Joe’s Big n’ Tall n’ Massive.” He said, guiding her to her bedroom. “Specialty retailers.” He explained, but she’d tuned him out as she tried to turn toward the bathroom. The twist made her stiffen and dig nails in his shoulder, all the while cursing softly under her breath.

  
Mulder waited as she calmed, and then distracted her from discomfort by gasping in astonishment. ”Scully said fuck!” He exclaimed, childish.

  
She shook her head at him and wet her lips around a smile.

  
“Shower.” She informed.

  
He straightened some and looked at her seriously.

  
“Is that a good idea?” He asked, hoping she would reconsider.

  
She shrugged slightly. “Don’t care. Shower.”

  
His jaw worked as he debated. She looked at him with tired eyes.

  
“You’re the boss.” He said, changing course and steering them towards the tub.

  
She nodded her thanks.

  
He shook the arm around his shoulders lightly so she would look at him. His face was grave and his tone brooked no argument.

“You kneel, Scully. Or sit.” He informed her. “Or so help me God I will get in there with you.” He said, not joking in the slightest.

  
She surprised him by acquiescing. “Was thinking the same thing.”

  
He smiled. “What, of sitting down? Or of me getting in there with you?” He helped her step in to the bathtub, still fully clothed. She tilted her head and considered a moment as he let go of her so she could slowly crouch down.

  
“Both.” She said, eyes closed, a wide grin appearing as sweat beaded her brow.

  
He shook his head in mock exasperation. “Tease.” He chided as he ran warm water into the tub. He watched her closely as she leaned back and tried to breathe evenly. “Want the shower on Scully or-“

  
She shook her head no and then with a groan batted the stopper into the tub with the fumbling paw of her hand. It squelched into the puddle forming around her and she maneuvered a foot to push it into plugging the drain.

  
She leaned back arms spread, head tilted backwards, and gasped out a long frustrated sigh.

  
He looked at her while she let the water help her heal. He brought the shampoo from the shelf nearby and placed it gently in her lap. She opened one eye, and then closed it again, grunting in recognition.

  
He crouched down and drew a long finger across the back of her hand. She turned it with a grimace and he tapped absently at her palm until he was sure she was paying attention.

  
“You should eat.” He said. She made a face and scrunched her nose at the very thought.

  
He tilted his head. “You gotta eat something.”

  
“Bread.” She said. “Jam.” She continued.

“Toast? “

She made a thinking noise and tried to open her jaw fully, getting about halfway. She shook her head no and flopped back down, little waves in her wake.

  
He tapped her again. “Soup?”

  
She drifted a moment, considering, fantasizing about warm slick noodles filling the ache in her belly. She flexed her fingers under his touch.

“Soup.” She relayed. “Cup.”

She opened her eyes. Gave him an apologetic smile. “Please.” She said softly.

     
He took her hand in both of his, rubbing it softly. “Grook understand.” He said making fun of her monosyllables. She closed her eyes but the smile stayed on her face.

  
“Go.” She said. “Hunt. Kill.”

  
He chuffed out a laugh and responded with a flourish. “By your command.” He said, dipping his head earnestly.

  
He rose to stand. “Farscape?” She questioned, opening one eye.

  
He sighed sadly and brought a hand to his chest, feigning heartbreak. “Battlestar, Scully. He shook his head slowly, forlorn. “Jesus Christ.”

Her soft peal of laugher made him smile as he made his exit, muttering and grumbling about how supposedly educated she always claimed to be.

  
She kept smiling until he was long gone. She let the tub fill more than she should before toeing off the water and then her socks, shaking with the effort.

  
She pulled at the hem of her shirt and slowly, laboriously pulled it up and over her head. She thanked her past self for deciding on the black set underneath today. She wasn’t in the mood for a wet t-shirt contest, so to speak.

  
She let the shirt plop into the water, too tired and getting way too stoned to care.

The painkillers, she deduced, were working. She wrestled with her pants, the buoyancy of the water helping more than hindering.

  
The toaster popped and the kettle whistled. Ah. She thought. Smart man. Saves time. Her stomach grumbled and she groaned at the expansion of the ache under her slowly forming bruises.

  
Hungry.

  
She’d finished soaping most of the smoke out of her skin when he knocked gently, not looking in.

  
“Yeah, s’okay. Mulder. I’m not…” she laughed a bit at her slurred words. “S’fine.”

  
He hesitated a moment, turning his head slowly to look. He saw floating clothes around an underwear and bra clad Scully, and upon seeing her semi decent, confidently strode into the bathroom.

  
He sat cross legged by her and put a plate with food in his lap.  
He moved two cups from the plate onto the floor beside him, steam curling gently from the heat. “Too hot.” he said. “Give it a minute.”

She “mmphed” her understanding and felt his hand gently take hers.

  
She opened her eyes. There was a piece of bread with jam smoothed over its soft pillowy surface. She extended her fingers slowly, marvelling at the complexity of the human body, and he placed the bread in her palm.

She sneered in discomfort as she brought her hand towards her face, and lazily munched at the bread as much as her injuries would allow.

  
Mulder, meanwhile, was slaughtering toast, hungrily devouring carbohydrates to bolster his system. He went through three pieces of his own by the time she had finished hers.

She extended her hand, asking for more, and he presented her another soft syrupy pillow, and she stared at it a moment until he nudged her hand slightly with his own.

  
She got through half of the slice before giving up, while Mulder consumed another two. She smiled sadly at him with gratitude as she handed him back the uneaten half.

  
“You sure?” He said. “You should.”

  
She shook her head. “Hurts.”

  
He nodded, took the half-piece from her hand and popped it into his mouth. She smiled.

“Sorry.” he shrugged. “I’m just...ravenous.” He seemed puzzled by his own voracious need to eat.

  
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “Stress.” She said. “Takes a toll.” She hummed quietly and let her head loll as it would.

  
“Speaking of energy. Hey.” He skimmed her cheek with the back of his hand lightly. Her eyes drifted back open.

  
He thought he would move his hand back, but he surprised himself by tracing the curve of her jaw as he spoke. “Just a couple more minutes Scully, then you can rest.” He promised, and she nodded and gathered strength, inhaling deeply.

  
“Want your hair done?”

  
She shook her head no.

  
“Soup?” He raised an eyebrow and a cup.

She smiled gently, almost laughing. He was funny. He was a funny man. Soup was such a great word.

  
“No.” She giggled. “No sssssoup.” she hissed playfully, loving the sound of the serpentine ‘s’ on her tongue.

  
“Scully’s hi-gh…” he remarked teasing.

She shook her head, curled her toes in the pleasant heat of the water. “M‘not high.” She told him, feigning insult at his words. “M’sssstoned.” She informed him, smiling broadly as he guffawed.

  
“Is that the medical term for it?” She mmhmmed and he ‘ahh-ed’ as he gulped the soup down, pausing a moment before emptying the second one in one long swig. She was preoccupied with the water, fascinated by the tiny ripples she could make by just flexing her foot. 

  
He placed the dishes on the bathroom vanity and grabbed a towel.

  
She pouted. She was sleepy and warrrrrm. He insisted with a gentle shake of the towel and a smile.  “C’mon Sleeping Beauty.” He said with stern kindness. “Past your bedtime.”

  
She grumbled and tried to stand but oh. Wow. Okay... so that didn’t work. She managed to kneel, and with his help he pulled her up enough for her to crawl slowly from the water. She damn near collapsed on him, but he caught her half drunk self and wrapped the towel haphazardly around her. He held her steady as she patted and dabbed, and giggled and stumbled, tucking the towel in around her waist like a sarong. He was reminded of bikinis and warm sandy beaches.

  
She moved more fluidly as the medication dulled the pain but he tried to keep her from overextending anyway, cause hoo boy was she ever gonna feel it tomorrow, so why make it worse.

  
She fell onto the bed face first and sank slowly into the covers, motionless.

  
He sighed so he wouldn’t howl with laughter and patted her on the calf a few times.

  
“C’mon sport. Roll over. Wouldn’t due to have you asphyxiate, now would it?”

  
“Roll over, roll over…” she sing songed, in between stabs of pain. He tried to help her as much as he could but she was goofy and instinctual and made herself a little nest in her pillows.

  
“Mulderrrrr…” she exhaled, reaching her hand out to him. He sat on the side of the bed as she snuggled into the pillow between her chest and the mattress.

“Scullllly...” He said, patting her hand reassuringly.

  
She went from giddy to maudlin in the span of a few seconds.

  
“Hurts.” She said, tears slipping from her eyes.

  
“I know.” Was his heartbroken reply.

  
“M’so sorry.” She sobbed. She hid her face in the softness beneath her.

  
He rubbed her back and gave her what privacy her bedding could allow.

  
Soon enough she stopped, worn out, raising her face from the bedding. She smiled another apology. “Sorry.”

  
He shook his head no, and stroked the hair away from the side of her face. Her hand caught his on the downswing.

  
“Stay.” She said softly.

  
He nodded. “Not going anywhere Scully, God knows-“

  
She shook her head, licked her lips at the cotton mouth side effect of her rapidly descending fog.

  
“With me.” She said, her eyes closing, trusting him to make the right decision.

  
She felt the sea of the bed bob as he settled himself fully, turning off the light, squeezing her hand. He spread out with a long groan, the days various activities finally catching up to him.

  
They dozed splayed out, peaceful, comfortable, like that for a time, not touching except at the center of the bed, where their fingers twitched lightly against one another’s as they dreamed.


	3. Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry, I’m fixing the typos, I swear. Gold dang ducking autocorrect is ruining my life.

“Son of a cock sucking whore!”

Oh good, he thought, blinking into wakefulness. Scully was up. How wonderful.

“Fuck!”

God bless.

He groaned to a sitting position, smacking his lips, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

She rained curses down beside him shaking with anger and pain, her arms hugging herself tightly, teeth bared, hissing epithets and adjectives against fire code regulations and building inspectors.

He inhaled deeply. “Meds wear off?” He asked, unhelpful. If she could have rolled over to face him she would have murdered him with her eyes. As it was she just growled at him instead.

Mulder exhaled deeply. “Okey doke.” He said, hopping out of the bed.

He found the gym bag where she hoarded her stash of semi pilfered, leftover medications. He shook two more pills out of a bottle with his name on it, for her.

She frowned. “Don’t wanna pass out.” She hissed.

“Oh, yes you do.” He informed her, shaking a third pill out. He looked at her again, recalculating her weight, and broke the last pill in half on the edge of the bottle.

He approached her cautiously, palm open, bringing the peace offering to her. “Water?” He asked.

She didn’t answer, her focus completely and totally on the mechanics of plucking the pills from his hand. He thumped loudly away as she laboured to bring the pills to her mouth. She dry swallowed again but the half pill stuck, and when he came back with the water she gulped it greedily down.

“Thank you.” She said, licking her lips. She spilled some, tremble my, and he took the glass from her and placed it on the small table next to the bed.

She settled and he smiled as he sat gingerly beside her.

“Full sentences, Scully.” He said, squeezing her shoulder. “You must be feeling better.”

“Kind of.” She said, stiffly rolling over onto her back. She breathed in a pattern to help dull the pain, and he smoothed his hand over her hip to soothe her as she did. The towel that had been wrapped around her waist had fallen away as she’d slept, and he tried to keep his hand on the skin of her waist, tempting thought it was to move down to the smooth glossy black fabric a half inch away.

“I can breathe.” She said, brow furrowing, cause how shit was that as an improvement. She took inventory quickly, and divulged a new fact: “I can think through the pain, now.” She wet her lips. “So thats’s better. I guess.”

“You wanna eat?” He asked, rubbing her cheek with his other hand.

“No.” She said sighing deep in her chest. He moved to take back the hand at her waist but she stopped him by carving out feather light patters on his wrist with her nails.

“Feels nice.” She said, closing her eyes. He swallowed and tried not to shake as he continued caressing.

“Mulder.” She panted, shifting up slightly. She pulled at one of the cups covering her breasts, the garment restrictive and digging in to the swelling. She exhaled heavily and unfurled a mischeivious grin. Her eyes glimmered with a dare as she asked him for “Help.”

She nearly laughed at his expression as he tried to stay sane, but he felt her fingers move softly at the back of his hand, reassuring, asking, seriously, for his help. He shrugged and gave an exaggerated sigh, like she was putting him out, and she allowed a chuckle to escape her at the roll of his eyes.

He moved to bring blankets to cover her up, but she smiled gently and shook her head no. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged slightly back, the reflexive motion making her flinch.

“We should probably...y’know...check.” She said, low, breathy, giving them both an excuse.

He narrowed his eyes with half felt suspicion, and she rolled her head as much as she could to the side, coquettish, asking him with the smugness of her smile to challenge her reason. He didn’t need much convincing. “Then check we shall.” He said, reaching underneath and around her. She groaned at the motion, but he was quick and soon had her released from her bondage.

She relaxed visibly, audibly, with an ecstatic groan that melted into a sigh. “Oh my god...” she groaned. “Thank you.”

He chuckled. “Anytime.”

She took a moment to rest and the loose straps fell down her shoulders. He kept the hand at her waist, his thumb making patterns, as his other hand pulled the offending piece off her.

He averted his gaze because of his proper upbringing, but she caught him peeking slyly once and encouraged him with a smile.

She scratched his hand at her waist to try to divert his attention back to her from the floor. He risked one eye towards her, and she tugged lightly at his wrist.

“I don’t mind.” She said softly, open and warm.

His own smile was nervous and it charmed her to bits. She was playful and seductive until a thought crossed her mind and the casual mirth of her flirting started to fade.

“Oh God…” She said, mortified “...oh god, I’m probably all black and blue…” she brought one arm over her eyes, the back of her arm cris crossed with purple and pink little dots that would grow into deep ugly bruises.

He tried to distract and console her by repeating her name, tracing the ridges of her collarbones until she grew brave enough to face him. She meekly peeked out from under the shelf of her arm.

“Is it bad?” She asked in a soft, sad voice, as she tried to crane her neck to fully see her battered body.

He put a hand on her shoulder to ask her to keep still and when he looked down his face told her more than he ever would.

“It’s not so bad.” He said, lying.

She moaned a lament for her broken, lost beauty, and her eyes fled back under the shelter of her arm. He fought not to laugh at the drama of it all.

“Alright, okay...” he admitted, “It’s gonna get pretty ugly. The bruising’s already started but you’re still early on.”

She made a pitiful sad whimper and her lips pursed in a pout.

He bit back a smile. “It’s just specks of colour now, Scully.” He said, reassuring. Her nose twitched upward and she wanted to believe him.”

“It’s just little specks of pink.” He said softly. “And purple.” He continued. “And orange. And black...”

She moaned again, mourning, and he pressed his lips into a line. She’d never been one for vanity but she’d never bared herself to him like this before either. He thought she was cute, but knew he should try to console her.

He pulled her arm away gently and drew his finger lightly down the bridge of her nose. “Like freckles.” He told her, his touch bursting into soft tiny taps, spreading his fingers and sprinkling the soft rain of his touches lightly down her cheek.

She seemed content with his answer. “Thanks.” She said softly, her smile coming back.

He cleared his throat and continued, because he would not be misquoted: “I also want you to know, Agent Scully...” he began, “...than any heretofore hesitation on the part of one Agent Mulder is definitively and solely based on the cataloging and diagnosis of your recent misfortune...”

He looked down at her chest again, mystified, enthralled. “...’cause you’ve got rad tits, Scully.” He said, humbled and awed.

She barked it a laugh and he grinned with a wink and kissed her brow quickly. She bit her lip to keep back the deep laughter that would probably hurt, but her struggle was lost as she watched him contemplate her chest like he’d had a vision from God.

“Seriously.” He said, in between her guffaws. “Like, for real, they’re just...perfect.” She rolled her eyes but her smile was still wide.

“Bodacious.” He continued. “Just a great pair a’ boobs.” He concluded as she wiped a tear from her eye.

His curiosity sated he looked back at her face, and he was in drawn in by the depth of feeling in the blue of her eyes. Half lidded and happy, they invited him in, and he’d seen the same look on a thousand hot, wanton women, but never like this.

“Keep touching me.” She instructed, settling into the pillows, seducing him with a sigh.

His voice cracked as he spoke. “Scully-“

“Mulder.” She interjected. “Touch me, please. Really, it’s fine.”

He was quiet and still and ah shit she’d fucked it all up-

“Mulder-“ she said quickly, trying to erase her verbal faux-pas. He wouldn’t hear her, his hard tone cutting her off.

“Fine, huh?” He questioned. “Is that what this is?” His jaw worked side to side as blossoming anger drew his dark brows down.

”Because I’m not gonna get close to you just so you can shut me out.” He informed her, pulling away.

Her denial was immediate and she grabbed for his hand. “No, Mulder, I’m sorry...” dammit, she thought, continuing with a sigh. “I meant it’s fine like...like it’s...fine.” She floundered. She looked at him for help but none was forthcoming.

“Goddamn it, this is why I went into the sciences...” she huffed and he forced back a smile. She exhaled in frustration, considering her words: “I mean this isn’t the drugs. I’m in my right mind.”

He remained stoic, but compassionate. “The meds not kick in?” 

She shook her head. “They’re starting but you know how quickly I become tolerant.” She sighed, cursing paternal genetics that metabolized all.

“Actually,” he said, dark and low. “...I don’t know that, Scully...” he pinned her with his stare. “When would you have told me...” he said, the accusation implied.

It was an awkward, quiet moment as neither one spoke. She could feel his eyes on her but she tried to ignore it.

She didn’t like where they were and tried to double them back with her touch. She squeezed his bicep and looked at him from underneath the dark lids of her eyes. He was unamused and unaffected by her attempts to tempt back his heart.

“I just meant...” she said, searching, “I meant it’s me here, now, not trauma or...”

He wasn’t convinced. “And will you still be here tomorrow? Or will this just be one of those things you never acknowledge or talk about?”

She tugged his shirt lightly, contrite and wallowing in guilt. She took a deep breath and began her apology.

“Mulder…” She started, biting her lip.

She lowered her head and gathered her courage, and she turned back to face him and to plead with her eyes.

“I’ll make you a deal.” She ventured, her voice faintly scared, and he was intrigued and tilted his head to say she should continue.

“There’s been a lot of... close calls lately.” She started, and his hand reflexively squeezed at the curve of her waist. His frown threatened to consume them, so she smiled gently and moved on.

”Too damn close, sometimes, for me. For both of us.” She blinked back a few tears and struggled to find the appropriate words.

“I’ve never been honest with you...” She told him, ashamed at the truth. “About myself, or my life, or anything I might have been going through.”

He agreed with a sigh, relieved but saddened by where he thought this was going.

But then she always did manage to keep him on his toes. “You’re very inspiring, you know.” She said quietly, raising her eyes.

He blinked. “What?” He blurted, confused by the compliment. She scratched lightly at his chest, as serene as she was earnest. She looked at him with awe and respect and heartbreaking pride.

“I’m so deeply inspired by you...” she revealed in a whisper.

He tried to say something but no sounds would come out.

She was bashful and small as she explained it to him.

“You’ve changed, since I met you.” She said, wistful and proud. “You’re less tragic. Less haunted.” She continued before her thoughts made her pause. “I don’t want to assume my importance to you, but I do think that some of your peace maybe...comes from finally learning how to accept...” she looked down. “...me.”

He was really lost now. “In...what sense?” He asked her, confounded.

She gathered her thoughts before she elaborated. “I think you’ve accepted my agency. That I have my own mind.”

“Scully when did I-“ She scratched at his chest to still him so she could continue.

“I think you finally trust me.” She said, serious and direct. He couldn’t help but speak up, obvious, that yeah. He did. For like a really long time.

She shook her head in frustration at her inadequate words.

“Yes, of course, you have, Mulder, but what I mean is that at some point you realized that I knew what was best for me, and my life.” She swallowed and looked down.

“Ah.” He said gently, starting to clue in. “I...” he started, but really...what could he say.

Her sad smile rescued him from his growing regrets. “I’ve always wanted you closer...but it’s hard to open up when your usual response is to discount my life.”

She was forlorn. “Every time I would try, you’d tell me to leave. To go be a doctor. To quit the FBI.”

Realizing her correctness was threatening to make him sick. He hasn’t to fix it. “God, Scully...” he despaired, “I never meant to-“

“I know.” She replies, gently cutting him off. I know what you meant but...it was always implied.”

He moved his thumbs on her skin at the sad turn of her lips. A light squeeze at her waist begged her not to leave it at that.

She was sad for a moment but when she spoke next she was proud. “In any case, I don't know when or why or what happened or how...” She traced his lips with her thumb as she stroked the side of his jaw, “... but I don’t feel you trying to keep me away anymore. You’ve accepted that I like my life, my job. That I’m happy in my work and happy...”

She swallowed. “...with you.” His eyes poured out emotion that his features could not. 

“Scully...”

She pressed on: “You see me as an agent who happens to be a doctor. Before it was always the other way around.” She stated, and god help him she was right and oh god was it always that simple? 

“So.” She said lightly, circling them back to her original point. “I’ll make you a deal.” 

“You keep doing what you’re doing, growing, evolving, inspiring, you keep seeing me as a person capable of making my own choices…and...” she looked sad with herself as she took a deep breath, “...and I’ll work on...being honest. I won’t...I won’t shut you out.”

She was struggling and sincere and his heart was in his throat.

He needed her to know. “I never once thought you incapable of anything, Scully.” He implored. “Not once, not ever, and I’m so, so sorry if that was even implied.”

She smiled a bit, sadly. “I know.” She replied. “Just like you know, now, that my presence in your life is not a...a Stockholm syndrome analogue, or a weird codependency or some...some deluded, fucked up perversion of loyalty.”

He smiled in pain and she smoothed her hand at his cheek and traced his jaw to his chin.

“There’s nothing to lament or forgive in this, Mulder. I’m here because I’m happy, and it’s time we moved on.”

He smiled at her sincerity, and bowed his head in assent to the quiet wisdom of her words.

After a moment’s contemplation he smiled at her, sheepish. “Sorry it took so goddmn long.” He said, and she soothed him with her eyes.

She tugged him gently down to her and nuzzled his face with her nose.

“And I meant what I said up there, Mulder. Before, in the fire. I do love you.” She whispered, her lips gently pressing once against the side of his mouth.

He was overcome. “Oh, God Scully I-“

“Hold on.” She asked him, wanting to get it all out. “I love you dearly, Fox Mulder, completely and fully.” She began, her lips caressing him again.

His acknowledging nod was sharp and he fought not to cry.

“...but I want to be clear. Ours is a great friendship, and we’ve always cared for each other, right from the start...”

His soul was evaporating. “Oh.” He said, plainly.

She caught on to the anguish hiding in his face and was so surprised by his panic that she let out a light laugh. “No, Mulder, hold on, this is good.” She assured him. “It’s my firm belief that friendship is the root of the most powerful love...”

Hope blossomed and allowed him to express his intrigue. “Oh?” he asked quietly, waiting for her response and she was bashful and nervous and it made his heart soar.

“Yeah.” She said softly. “So, of course, I love you, deeply, as a friend and a partner, but I need you to know...”

She tried to look hopeful behind the veil of her worry. “I need you to know that as much as I love you I’m -in- love with you, too.”

The room spun and he was speechless and she looked away to the side.

She was too timid to face him, steeling herself for rejection, half expecting it’s arrival. “Well.” She said, voice steady even as her hands trembled. “Now you know all of it.” She concluded, matter of fact. Her fingers fidgeted at an errant thread in the sheets. She steeled herself for the worst: “I know it’s a lot all at once and it’s been a rough day but I want you to know nothing will change if you don’t feel the sa-“

He slew her fool rambling with a precise, solid strike, his lips soaring to hers in a deep, hungry caress. He painted her mouth with the brush of his longing and his fear and his joy and his- oh- she gasped... lust.

She wrapped numb arms around him, pushing past pain, and she panted with want when the mechanics of breathing deprived her of him.

He was thrilled and exhuberant like a boy with a puppy and she laughed as he dusted her face with joyous little pecks. He returned to her mouth and drank deep of her soul, and they shared and they moaned at the catharsis it brought them.

He reigned himself in with great, costly effort, keeping her state of body in mind though wild hunger gnawed at him. His hands moved back to her waist but a little more down, and he held her and stroked her with small, rhythmic pulls, simulating how she would move when he fucked her like this.

A deep blush blossomed from her cheeks to her chest, and her breathing quickened when she realized the implication of his caress. She was entranced by his face, at the depths of his eyes, and she struggled to be worthy of the emotion behind them. 

“I have loved you forever.” he said, squeezing his hands, and she gasped with more pleasure than pain, so he grasped her again. He stilled his touch, slowly, and made sure she was listening: “...and let me be clear, now, Scully, that I am also -in- love.”

He pressed his lips meaningfully, tenderly, just above her navel, a benediction, a blesssing, an embrace, and a tease. She sighed as she smiled, closing her eyes at the sensation and crying out with relief.

He moved one hand from her side and traced her lips with his thumb, wincing with want as he felt their soft warmth. She parted them slightly as she smiled, and watched his lip curl as she coaxed the stray digit into the heat of her mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned, tortured, ecstatic, as she nipped and she nibbled and suckled him gently.

“Fuck.” He exhaled, at the swipe of her tongue. He needed to calm down and did so by drawing the wet finger back from her mouth, slow and reluctant, drawing the flesh of her bottom lip down. She kept her confident gaze locked on his face, as she whimpered and tried to convince him to return to her mouth.

He kept free of her trickery she and moved one hand to her cheek the animal in him lightly clawing her flesh as she watched him devolve.

  
She hummed a small laugh, pleased at her power, and brought her own hands down from around him to gently grope at her chest.

“God.” He hissed as she delighted herself, oo-ing and ahh-ing at her feather light strokes.

His face showed amusement over a madness that was just barely in check. She had a smug, pleased look on her face as she played with them both. She bit the tip of a fine slender nail against the rose of her lips, and he chuffed out a laugh and shook his head, proud.

“You having fun down there, woman, torturing me?” He asked, low and bemused.

She tipped her head and shrugged slightly, coy and coquettish, like she had -no- -idea- what what he was talking about. The hand at her chest moved down across the plane of her stomach, while the other hand came to stroke the long column of her throat.

He stopped her hand from disappearing too far south, but her hips shifted slightly to egg his lust on.

“Touch me.” She begged, with a taunting,  earnest smile.

He panted like he’d been running and sought her eyes with his own. “I wanna tear you apart.” He warned her, and she laughed with excitement.

He breathed hard as she batted her lashes and tried to get him to settle between her aching, tired legs. He made no move to continue but she was pleased to see that he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull back from her either.

She forced her obliviousness: “What’s stopping you, then?”

He closed his eyes with low groan and a grin and when he looked at her again she was serene and content. She flexed her hand in his lightly asking him to let go. He did so, sadly, but she didn’t go far. She turned her palm up to his, and laced their fingers together. She wrestled him slightly, with little grunts and grrs, and as they played the intimacy of it helped cool them both down.

She nodded at him, still just a little wild. “I know.” She said, and her voice was thick with unspoken gratitude.

“Don’t think I don’t want to.” He assured her, his hand squeezing her waist.

She shook her head as her lips spread into a wolfish, sly grin. She looked down, cocked an eyebrow, and looked back to him, impressed.

“Mm.” She said. “Yes. It’s pretty clear, what you want.”

“I told you it was massive.” He said off the cuff, and the bright laughter she sang brought a huge grin to his face. It was his turn to look pleased, as her giggles trailed off.

Still, he inspired her to give it the old college try. She licked her lips in thought before addressing him, warm: “You know...I don’t mind…” she began, spreading her fingers apart in his hand.

“No.” He said sadly, hiding behind a smile. “But I do, Scully.” They both knew damn well what was coming, when the painkillers wore off. “I mind very much...”

She acknowledged him with the softening of her eyes and the sad upwards twitch of her lips.

She gave it one fI also try: “I’m gonna hurt anyway...” She reasoned. “...might as well have a good reason why…”

He married his eyes in exaggerated suspicion. “What...and have you lord it over me the whole time you recover?” She sighed deeply and falsely, with mock exasperation.

Oh he was on a roll now: “O fool fiendish demon! O lush trickster goddess!” he addressed her, overacting, his fist waving at his chest. “I know your dark magic! I’ll not be your slave!”

She tried very hard not to smile, the straight man to his oaf. “Curses.” She deadpanned. “You figured it out.”

He played up his pride at his brilliant deduction. “O sly seductress, I have you now!” He declared, swooping his head down to nip at her jaw. She laughed as he smooched and snuffled her face and her neck with wet sloppy kisses, sound effects and all.

“Mulder!” She laughed, but he refused to relent.

“Oh womanly witch with your wet wanton wiles!…”, he continued, messy and gallant as he trailed down her throat.

The huge belly laughs hurt but she didn’t want them to stop. He proclaimed alliterated and recited a path down, obvious and overacting until he came to her thighs.

She laughed into a moan as his mouth came down to her flesh, still surprising and exciting her through a thin layer of cloth.

It was his turn to hem and to haw and to torture and play but when her legs started shaking he reluctantly stopped.

He rubbed his chin with a hand and gave her a wide fox’s grin.

“Two can play your game, wild little witch...” he said, crawling back up to her mouth. She was bout to respond but his hand pressed down hard where once his mouth was, and she closed her eyes and arched slightly and moaned deeply instead.

She begged him for more but he whooped a loud “Haw!” slapping her thigh in his triumph and pressing his victorious grin to her mouth. She vowed silent revenge, but calmed under his mouth.

They came down together slowly as they explored each other’s lips, happy and focused and tired and sore. Soon he pulled back with finality and brought his palm to her cheek.

“I love you.” He told her, stroking her softly.

She narrowed her eyes, and was haughty with pride. “Don’t think that will save you, O pitiful man...” 

He barked out a laugh and she joined in at the chorus. He pressed his forehead to hers and they rubbed noses gently.

“You’re gonna be -such- a pain in the ass in the morningggg...” He drawled out, smiling deeply and broadly.

“You don’t know the half of it.” She informed him, smirking at his groan.

He flipped off the light and flopped down beside her with an elaborate sigh.

“Well now I gotta go masturbate, Scully!” He lamented loudly to the room. She hid a smile as she snuggled into a pillow, sleepy and content.

“Mmkay…” she said, through and exaggerated yawn. “Have fun.” She told him, intent on nodding off.

His groan was exorbitant and trailed into soft grumbling as he pantomimed storming out and away. She stopped a laugh from escaping and let the trauma of her day pull her back into sleep.

There was a tap on her palm but she didn’t open her eyes.

“You need anything?” He asked softly.

She hummed out a no.

A soft kiss to her cheek pulled her further towards slumber, and the bright joy in her heart followed her down.

**Author's Note:**

> Struggling with the direction I want to take Plus One Minus One after that last chapter (10). Wrote this to help get through the writers block. I could use a beta, message me.
> 
> Regarding this piece, I’m intrigued by the camaraderie that occurs in times of high stress between people who care for one another, like the temporary rescue partners I’ve had in my health care work. There is something beautiful about the walls that come down or are ignored when concern or illness is involved, even in people who hardly know each other. 
> 
> But when it’s two people so clearly in love, well...that’s what this is about.
> 
> Next chapters are developing into a character study. Examining where they go from here, and why. It’s fun and fluffy and angsty and nice. Stay tuned. Kudos comment and subscribe to stay up to date.


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